


The Truth About Heaven

by beetlegeuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Twisted (TV), Victorious
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mash-up, Military, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlegeuse/pseuds/beetlegeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childhood friends Ariana and Avan are reunited after 3 years apart when Avan returns from his deployment in the US Army, and the two of them rekindle their friendship over an unlikely topic. Avan is in counseling to manage some PTSD, But Ariana has a secret that may help shed light on the situation and bring them closer than they ever were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on this site, and this is a new story. The characters don't have last names just because I am using celebrities as Face characters and it could get confusing. Yes, Ariana and Dylan are siblings, and yes, Dylan has a twin. And "Greenbrier" is just a place I made up, no actual US State in mind. First chapters tend to be vague and boring, It gets better I promise. ;)
> 
> Please comment if you enjoy!

“Is this dress too slutty? I mean, I don’t want to scare him away again.” I stood in front of the mirror, examining and smoothing the lavender lace dress from every angle. I bent over to touch my toes.  
“Yeah, I can see your ass.” Holland laughed, closing the magazine she’d been flipping through. “But, that’s the same as every dress you have. It looks fine, Ariana. Chill. He’s going to like anything you have on. He’s a man, remember?”  
“Oh don’t say that, he is not a man. It’s Avan. He’s so, ‘boy-next-door.’ Literally. He literally lived next door.”  
“And you are literally the worst subject changer on earth. You’re trying so hard to impress him, you have a thing for him! Don’t even deny it.” She stared at me smugly in the mirror, popping her gum.  
“You’re so wrong. So what if I want to look nice? He hasn’t seen me in years. I don’t want him to think I let myself go.”  
“Bullshit. That’s clearly not the case.” She said, gesturing with both hands to my smooth calves, dramatically defined by the pair of heels I was standing in. I sighed.  
“You’re right. Oh, I hate admitting that.” I stepped out of the heels. I was trying too hard. Avan was my best friend for most of my life. He was just going to be happy to see me. I thought.  
“See. You so love him.”  
“No. I said you were right about me looking too damn good. I’ll tone it down a little bit.” I Threw the heels into the closet. “I don’t want to intimidate him.”  
She rolled her eyes and opened the magazine again.  
“When are the twins getting home from lacrosse practice? Maybe Duncan can help you pick a seductive outfit for the return of our childhood friend while I ravish Dylan on the bed. How’s that sound?”  
“You’re disgusting. That’s my baby brother.” My nose twitched. They were still in the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the relationship and it was going to take some getting used to.  
“No room to talk, since you’re trying to get with someone you’ve known so long, you used to shove sand down each other’s diapers and then cry when your mom hosed you both off in the yard.”  
“Those were good times.” I sat on the bed with her, facing the framed picture of Avan and I at our middle school graduation that hung on the wall beside the window.  
“You’re not even denying it now!” She sounded more annoyed than amused.  
I ignored her harassment and took the picture from the wall, stuffing it under the cushions in the window seat. Holland’s eyebrows rose high enough to shame me for the next decade, but I didn’t care.

 

After we all graduated high school, Avan immediately left Greenbrier and enlisted in the US Army. No one really knew why he decided to take that path instead of going to community college like the rest of us. He was always super vague about it, saying things like he “needed to prove he was worthy of living in the United States”. He was often bullied and picked on because of his father’s indian heritage and his mother and brothers had a very thick Canadian accent. Holland and I think that maybe he just wanted to get away from his family. When he enlisted, he took each of us into his room individually to tell us about it, but I don’t remember much. At the time, I guess I just thought he wouldn’t actually go through with it. He was gone before we knew it. He did not visit home for the holidays.  
They took him to Texas, Alaska, and California before his first deployment to Kuwait and Afghanistan. He had never been a fan of social media anyway, but when he was gone, he really was gone. The last time Holland, Dylan, Duncan and I skyped with him was 7 months ago, and it was only for a few minutes. He had just been hospitalized for multiple wounds and a bone fracture in a soldier’s hospital in Scotland while the others were vacationing. He swore it was nothing very serious, otherwise he wouldn’t have been online, but he looked very rough. Dark circles, no hair, very sickly and paler than usual. I remember that day, when Dylan finally shut the laptop, Holland and I sat on the bed and cried. His mother occasionally wrote letters to him, and she told me that he was doing well, despite the injuries and the discharge. She may have been just saying it for my sake, but I wanted to believe her. She also claimed that the discharge was what he wanted. That I found a little harder to believe, but I was still very excited to finally see him.

I was trying so hard not to be angry with him for leaving us. He’d missed so much. We all looked completely different now. The twins, my brothers -his brothers- looked different from one another now. Dylan had let his hair grow out and started actually caring about his appearance. Duncan still looked 14, but his personality and fashion sense had grown drastically. I was afraid Avan wouldn’t want to play catch- up immediately, but I was going to try my best. He couldn’t hide forever, I mean, he would be staying next door to us. 

“Ariana. Why are you hiding the picture? Won’t he want to see it?”  
I redirected the photo topic to a much bigger issue. I pulled the nail from the wall and dropped it in a small ceramic bowl on my dresser. I turned to give Holland a solemn look that needed no explanation.  
“He doesn’t know about Shawn.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you gonna do when I’m gone?” Avan laughed, watching me write our names underneath a table in the dining hall with a sharpie that, by the effectiveness of its ink, had probably been at the camp for 10 or more years.  
“I didn’t say you could leave!” I scribbled on his arm with the piece of shit marker  
“Property of Ariana”. He snorted. We had escaped the group of over 150 kids and were hiding in the dark, deserted dining area under a table in the corner. The power had gone out and honestly, I don’t think our band instructor gave a damn anymore because no one had come looking for us. That year’s camp experience, as far as the band went, was awful, but Avan and I still had a good time with our friends. We had no cell service at camp, so we couldn’t text to let anyone know where we were. The dining hall was unlocked, windows wide open, so we figured someone would eventually wander in and find us. They never did. We sat there, Avan falling asleep, me just staring at the wall, until the power came back on. Then we ran like hell.  
“What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”. That was our 10th grade year, and I was so naïve, I guess I never imagined he could have actually been serious. He’d had these army plans for a while, I guess. That didn’t make it hurt less.

Today was the day I’d been waiting for since before we even graduated high school. When he told me he’d learn new languages, see new places and do great things for the country, it was hard for me to be happy for him with the constant worry in the back of my mind and the inevitable, “Never seeing him again”. I knew that was a dramatic way to put it, but 17 year old me was right. It did feel like It had been a lifetime since we wrestled over the remote or piled into our favorite round booth at Applebees, the only restaurant with TVs that was within walking distance of our neighborhood.  
God. Our lives seemed so sad. But they weren’t. Some of the best nights of my life were spent with Avan, Holland, Liz, Dylan and Duncan in that booth. And as cheesy as Liz thought it was, we were going back. 

 

“We got the booth, so just meet us here as soon as you guys are done, okay? I don’t care if you’re sweaty! We’re already here, Avan is on the way, and we’re not waiting for you to take showers! Just wipe yourself off on the drive from school! I love you too, dipshit.” Holland made additional kissy noises into the phone before hanging up, and I tried my hardest to refrain from retching into the nearest trash bin. Mostly out of nerves for seeing Avan, though.  
“I’ll be right back. If she asks, I’ll have a water.” I rushed from the table to the bathroom, checking my phone on the way. Not that he’d have texted, I wasn’t even sure if he had a working cell phone anymore. I guess it was just habit.  
I didn’t do the nervous water-splashing thing they do in movies, I just paced back and forth a little bit, rehearsing what I thought might happen, over and over. He’d approach the table and greet us all graciously, hugs all around, we’d order the same things we always ordered and reminisce on the good times we had in our youth, maybe talk about the future, college, jobs, roommates? What if he already has a roommate?  
I froze, convincing myself I was over-thinking everything, as I usually do, and washed my hands and dried them quickly. I yanked the bathroom door open, marching confidently out into the hall, and slammed right into a dark tall figure.  
“Oh, my god.” A familiar, nostalgic voice. His face went from irritation to admiration in half of a second.  
“You’re here, oh, you’re actually here in person like right here!” My arms were instantly around him, and I was not prepared to let go for a while. He smelled the exact way he always had, old spice and the same shampoo he’d used since middle school. He picked me up a little bit, spinning me back into the light and he put me down, stepped back a little and looked at me.  
“Holy shit.” He said, grinning. “You’re beautiful!”  
“Look at your hair!!” I was back on him, pawing at the long, black, mass that had been twisted into a little bun at the back of his head. He just laughed.  
“Look at yours! Goldilocks!” When he’d left, my hair had been a bright red, and now I had let it grow back to my natural color, adding a caramel ombre to the bottom, and I curled it often now instead of wearing it straight. It hung past the straps of the baby blue dress I’d finally decided on. He wore khakis, a black buttoned shirt and an olive green jacket. Did he actually dress up for this occasion? I wondered if I should have tried harder but then remembered Holland mocking my entire “runway diva” wardrobe, and tried to relax.

“Let’s not keep them waiting,” He said as he ushered me back out into the restaurant.  
“Look who I found!” I squealed as we approached the table. Dylan, Duncan and Liz were already fumbling to stand up and greet him, but Holland just grinned at me. “She sent you back there, didn’t she.” I said quietly in Avan’s ear as Dylan and Duncan piled around him, slapping him on the back.  
“Yep.”  
I gave her an evil look, but she knew I really meant “Thank you thank you thank you.” 

We probably talked for half an hour before we finally calmed down enough to order drinks. Earlier, the middle-aged waitress had overheard us talking about the discharge and smiled, understanding why we were taking an eternity. I made a mental note to leave her a huge tip later.  
“I’ll just have a water, please.” I timidly told the waitress once it was my turn to order my drink.  
“Woah woah woah, what? A _water?_ That’s not right. You used to always get strawberry lemonade.” Avan interrupted. I gave a weak smile and shrugged.  
“She’ll have a strawberry lemonade.” He told the waitress and flashed a charming, familiar smile that made me feel less nervous.  
“And uh, I’ll have one too, actually.” He added, lightly nudging my leg with his.

We barely touched our food over all of the conversation, which was okay with me because I couldn’t hold much down on a regular day, and today my stomach was in knots that could intimidate even the finest eagle scout. So I nibbled a few French fries and mostly just listened to the boys play catch up. After explaining our school situations to him, Liz, Holland and I didn’t really have much exciting news to share. I did invite him to sit in on my drawing class the next day though.  
“So I’m just gonna ask the question everyone’s too polite to ask. Did you kill anyone?!” Dylan asked, mouth full of garlic bread. I immediately kicked around under the table, too short to actually reach his shins.  
“Dylan!” Holland hissed. Liz looked like she wished she were anywhere else.  
“WHAT?!” Dylan shrieked. “Dude, I’m sorry.”  
“No, no, It’s okay.” Avan gave a meek chuckle. “Over there, I saw a lot of things I wish I hadn’t. And, I wish I could say I learned from it and came out a better person, but I really wouldn’t wish it on my enemies. I’m not saying I regret it.” He stopped to form his thoughts before speaking. That was something he’d always done, and I admired it, a chronic sufferer of mouth diarrhea, much like my brother.  
“But I definitely didn’t know what I was getting into.” Avan looked down at his plate, spearing a grilled shrimp rather aggressively with his fork. I swallowed and gave Dylan the eyes and he knew he’d get it later. He was relying on Liz and I to buy alcohol for he and Duncan’s 18th birthday next week. Not after that little slip up.  
“And, I’m glad I’m back home and at peace.” He added, with a smile that looked somewhat forced, but I don’t know if I was just being overly protective of his emotions.  
“But I’m seriously tired of talking about myself, you guys,” He laughed, seeming a little back to earth. “There’s one of me, and five of you. What’s changed in the city? Anything new I should know about? Exhibits, cool new restaurants?”  
“Hey, I like this restaurant just fine!” Duncan chirped, giving eyebrows to a waitress passing by. She rolled her eyes and he continued eating in silence. Liz smacked him on the back.  
“Nice.”  
“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well,” I began, trying to get the conversation rolling on a happier topic. “Greenbrier is pretty much the same, aside from a few construction projects here and there. The fall festival will be happening again in October!”  
Dylan cut me off.  
“So, I mean, you’ve been to what, how many countries? Like 10?”  
Avan was maintaining his attitude well, but I was getting to the point I often reached with Dylan- “Keep talking and I’ll kill you”.  
“Actually just 4 outside of the US and Canada. We hit Kuwait first, then Afghanistan, Then we visited Cambodia and Scotland. Although I didn’t see much of Scotland.”  
I could tell he wasn’t elaborating on purpose. I gave Holland a nod and she caught on immediately, another reason why she was my platonic soulmate. She always knew what I was thinking.  
“Ariana and I visited The Netherlands last summer. It was beautiful. I’d love to go back!” She told him, and his face brightened.  
“The Netherlands? Wow, that’s kind of… random? Why there?”  
“My mother’s friend from work had extra frequent flyer points and she knows a guy who lives in Amsterdam who let us stay in the apartment above his for basically nothing. It was a last minute thing, and super cheap.” She finished, passing the ball to me.  
“Yeah, if I ever get the money, I’m going to stay longer next time.” Avan looked at me.  
“You’ll go.” He said confidently. I hoped he was right. But I hoped a lot of things. 

“So what’s the deal with the hair, man, I thought they made you like, buzz it all off on the first day or something.” Dylan just could not stop with the military talk. And the talking with his mouth full.  
“Yeah,” Avan chuckled, again, it seemed like he was just trying to be polite to Dylan’s intrusiveness.  
“They did shave my head. But after the discharge I kinda just stayed on base sulking and eating all the time and playing video games. And of course, not cutting my hair. I wasn’t really ready to come home and face the real world again, I just kind of stayed incognito in this army-civilian limbo for a while. It was kinda nice.” He laughed again.  
“Well I think it looks great!” Holland raved, reaching over to feel his man-bun. He just laughed again.  
“Thanks.”

I was so thankful to see him happy. I had been so nervous about how he’d act around us, but it really wasn’t all that different than 3 years ago. I was so relieved.

Until he texted me on the drive home, saying that he was embarrassed to say it in front of everyone, but that he couldn’t come to class with me because he had in-home counseling on Tuesdays.  
 _Counseling?_ Oh my god.

I was never buying Dylan alcohol again.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time I ever masturbated, I did it wrong, as most young kids do. And the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth times, still nothing. At the perplexed age of 14, I decided that I must be asexual; that sex was not a thing I enjoyed. I loved to look at boys- their arms, their hair, their smiles- all parts of them, really. But to let one fuck me? I didn’t really care much for it. By age 17, all I really wanted was just a boy to pal around with, a boy I’d spend every waking moment with, doing every stupid thing I’d read about in teen novels over the span of my youth. Until graduation, Avan was always that guy. He was everything good I’d ever known as far as men went. We hit every major milestone together- getting our braces on, and then later, off, getting our learner’s permits, 16th birthdays, getting our licenses, our first crappy cars, homecoming games, proms, our 18th birthdays, and then of course, graduation. Even though we were inseparable for most of our lives, we still managed to date countless assholes and frigid, cheating bitches. By junior year, Avan trusted no one besides me, Liz, Holland, and the twins. He didn’t say it, but he never had to. Part of the reason Avan and I went to every dance and prom together was because after his “first love” Tiffany broke his heart, he vowed he would never choose any other girl over me. He was always looking to protect me, to somehow signal to other guys that, by wearing a tie the same exact color as my dress, no one else was allowed to dance with me, which I guess was his way of making sure I stayed out of harm’s way. He was right to do this, because I certainly new how to pick the scummiest of the scum.

The seventh time I masturbated, Liz told me I was too gentle. Holland told me to picture something that would make me “break my neck trying to catch a glimpse”, so I pictured Avan’s arms. At our junior prom, Avan and I spent the majority of the dance sitting together under an empty table in the hallway playing uno and bitching about the music and how much we hated everybody. We’d bought our prom tickets months prior, and I’d spent a lot on a dress and shoes, so we had to go. I’d ended up leaving my then-ex boyfriend, Todd, having learned of his emotional instability and anger issues, and Todd was on the warpath trying to find me in between fits of crying on all of his drunken friends.  
It was a disaster. And it was hot under that table. The dress was an absolutely hideous black and white polka-dot number that now, I wish I’d never bought, and Avan wore what he always wore to events- black pants, white shirt, black tie. His hair was long back then, embarrassingly long, but not long enough to put up. He kept pushing it back with his hand, and eventually borrowed bobby pins from my half-up-do to hold his bangs in place. I helped him roll the sleeves of the white shirt, which was a little bit too small for him. He never wore an undershirt, something that wasn’t usually a problem, but he was beginning to sweat through the shirt and I tried to ignore it. He smiled and stood.   
“We can’t let this night completely suck.” He held a hand out for me, waiting for me to grab it, but I didn’t.  
“I want to stay on the floor.”   
“No. You look too beautiful tonight to stay on the floor. Don’t make me look like a fool.” He flashed the toothy sideways smirk, just for a second, wiggling his fingers in my face.  
I couldn’t say no. I grabbed his hand, although I didn’t need to, and stood, kicking my heels off to the side. I shrunk about 5 inches, so to actually see his face while dancing was nearly impossible. We swayed awkwardly for a while with some shitty music playing, muffled in the background, and all I could really see was Avan’s arm blocking my view of anything else. It was nice. We laughed, this time having been the first time we ever actually ‘danced’, and he spun me a few times. I was clumsy on a good day, but with him I was comfortable and usually relaxed. I finally eased into it and let him lead, something I was very reluctant to do. That particular evening was a beautiful one, one I’d always remember. And I don’t know why I chose that memory- I didn’t really think there was much erotic content between soda in paper cups, hearing outdated Fergie songs all night, and Avan’s sweaty arms gleaming under the fluorescent hallway lighting, but when I pictured it like Holland told me to, I saw stars. That warm place you hit where nothing else in the world matters for a minute? Pure ecstasy. And all I could think afterward was ‘Made possible by Avan’s arms’. It was a confusing time, but I soon learned what I wanted. And by soon, I meant several whole years and many failed relationships later.

And here we are. I had my chance now. He was staying put. He’d come over to hang out on Thursday to discuss why he couldn’t come with me to class on Tuesday.  
“So you don’t really need the therapist, it’s just precautionary? Like, it’s just required of all soldiers once you’re done serving or whatever?” I was trying my absolute best to understand what he was talking about. I really was. But I couldn’t grasp half of the military lingo he was using and I didn’t want to seem ignorant. Even though I was.  
“Not exactly.” He half-smiled, cracking an egg into a bowl of pre-made cupcake mix. We had always liked to bake when we were growing up, and Dylan and Duncan’s birthday on Monday was a great excuse to invite him to make cupcakes with me since Holland detested anything traditionally feminine, and Liz was busy trying to get other things ready for the party, which was tomorrow night.  
“Basically, the military will provide you with counseling- in home or office visits, for as long as you want once you’re back from overseas. I don’t want to sound like a wimp….” He threw some eggshells into the sink and turned away from me.  
“I don’t think you’re a wimp. You’re not a wimp. Where did that come from?” I was shocked that he was acting so strange when minutes ago we were fighting over a stick of butter while calling each other “squirt” and “professor ponytail”.   
“Talking to Dr. Reid helps me to know that everything I felt over there- and everything I still feel here, is normal for someone who’s seen what I’ve seen. She’s really comforting.” He finished, refusing to make eye contact with me. He was bending the handle of a rubber spatula back and forth, waiting for me to say something. I put both hands over his on the spatula and made him look up at me. I smiled. “She sounds lovely.”   
“It’s not like I’m crazy, Ari. It isn’t like that. I guess I just have no one else to talk to really,” He half whispered, even though we were the only ones in the house.  
I actually took offense to that.  
“You have me, dumbass.”   
“You don’t want to hear about that stuff. It’s awful.” His face was so solemn, and he still wouldn’t look directly at me. In any serious situation with him, I usually defaulted to comedy to ease the tension, and he did the same for me.  
“My dear friend not trusting me is even more awful, I bet.” I grinned, thinking this was the perfect comeback. I knew it was, because he said nothing else after that, other than “If you don’t mention this to anyone else, I might let you help me lick the spoon when we’re done.” 

I couldn’t argue with that.


	4. Chapter 4

“So we’re staring out the window watching two bumblebees fuck, when she turns to me and says, “You ever feel like a bee? I mean really? Like, so free and tiny and you can just, pollinate like, whatever you want?” and I’m all, -“ I drag Dylan off before he embarrasses himself further.  
“Evening bro, I need your help.”  
“WWAAAT?! In the middle of explaining the plot of my future debut teen film, Bumblefuck? This better be go0o0o0oood!” He laughed, sloshing orange liquid down the front of his shirt.  
“Trust me darling, these people will thank you later for shutting up now.” Holland comforted him, rolling her eyes. He gave her a confused look. “Love ya, mean it!” she pecked him on the cheek and turned around to entertain some of his friends.

“You goddit sista.”  
“Alright. Listen to me. DYLAN. Look at me.”  
“I’m HEEEERE ARI. IM heeEERe.” I walked away from him, grabbing Liz by the arm. “Drunk already?” She asked, and she was correct. “Yes, but Dylan is worse.”  
“Oh Jesus. Where’s Duncan?”  
“I don’t know that’s why I need you to help me find him.” I was becoming more irritated by the second until my babiest brother did the single largest favor he’d ever done for me by magically appearing in the doorway from the smoke-filled garage.  
“Oh thank god.” I let out a sigh of relief.  
“Hey, AVAN!!!” Liz shouted, pretending to be 100 times drunker than she actually was, which was not at all. I loved her, I really did.  
I shoved Duncan back into the garage and stood against the door. “How drunk are you?” I asked, looking him over. He looked fine.  
“I’m not.”  
“Good. You’ve always been my favorite.” I grinned. He rolled his eyes.  
“I need you to distract the house in like 15 minutes while Holland and I hang a banner in the living room to welcome him back. He thinks this is your birthday party, and it is, but it’s also a party for him, too.”  
“Right, right, okay. What should we do?”  
“Well..” I hadn’t actually thought that far. “Holland will come down from the stairs and give a signal. The signal will be her shouting, “MAN, I’M SO DRUNK!” She won’t actually be drunk.” It was true. It took a lot for her to feel anything, meanwhile I couldn’t even smell a beer without getting a tiny buzz.  
“So when she screams that she’s drunk, just, I don’t know. Have Dylan do stand up comedy in the kitchen or something. It will only take us like 3 minutes to hang the thing and set the cake out. Can. You. Handle. This.”  
“YESSS.” He cocked his head back, drawing out the last syllable.  
“THANK YOU.” I pecked him on the cheek, turned around and reached for the doorknob, but before I could grasp it, the door rushed at me with some sizeable force, hitting me right in the face. I let out a yelp, immediately knowing it wasn’t going to be pretty.  
“HOLY SHIT, ARI, I’M SO SORRY-“ It was Avan. Of course. I turned away from him, not wanting to let him see me in pain. I staggered across the garage to the workbench, pushing my way through some lacrosse guys who were passing a bowl around and made no effort to help me. I pushed a bunch of crap around until I uncovered a halfway oil-stained, but still partially white, work rag. I held it up to my nose, immediately feeling the warm stickiness flooding into it.  
“Oh god,” Avan had made his way to me, Holding my head to his chest, but I wriggled out of his grip because it was just uncomfortable. I knew he felt bad, but I didn’t want to be touched.  
“I’m fine.” I held the bloody rag up, trying to show him that It had stopped bleeding. It certainly hadn’t. More blood trickled out of my nose and I jerked my head back, stopping it with the rag again. Before I could maneuver myself to see him, Avan turned around and rushed back through the garage door, nearly knocking Duncan over on the way.

 

“I'm sorry. I should have stayed. I should have taken care of you-“ He turned away and the sharp sound of fist colliding with doorframe startled everyone that was still left in the garage. I dropped the rag on the floor and arranged myself in between him and the wall, grabbing both of his wrists.  
"Hey.... we are a team. Get it? I take care of you and you take care of me. I'm a big girl now. Let me help." He took his arms back, calmer now, and slumped to the floor. "I got this guys. Go mingle, we'll catch up in a little while." I said to Dylan and Holland, who stood nervously behind me. It was a little irritating how I could never have one without the other one. They scurried off, taking a few others with them, and I crossed my legs to meet Avan on the ground, dirty, bloody rag in tow. I handed it to him, helping him wrap it tightly around his knuckles. "Hold that there while I go get some other stuff." Then I leaned forward and kissed behind his ear. "You're really hot when you're mad, by the way." I chuckled a little into his ear before kissing him again on the forehead. He half-smiled, still not looking at me. When I returned with gauze, an airplane bottle of vanilla vodka, painter's tape, paper towels and windex, he was gone. I scrubbed the tiny amount of blood off of the textured wall, and wiped my disgusting nose drippage off of the garage floor.

 

When i found him in my room, sitting on the window bed, he had changed from jeans into basketball shorts but still wore the olive t-shirt stained with my blood.  
"Thank you," he mumbled, throwing every decorative pillow but one- my favorite one, onto the big bed to make room for me. I sat, grinning.  
"You know," I began, fingering the open short sleeve that lay covering a majority of his tattoos, " wearing a bloody t-shirt, while somewhat arousing, isn't exactly sanitary." I didn't grin, because this was an honest statement. If we were outdoors, yeah, it'd be hot, but we were in my meticulously kept sanctuary of cleanliness and honestly, it was making me kind of sick.  
"I don’t want to go back downstairs and see anyone."  
"I know." I just kept staring at him, waiting for him to take the hint.  
"Do you want me to take it off?" He asked, eyebrows dancing. I gave him a "Cut that out" look, nodding. He laughed, the first real time tonight. Thank god.  
He reached the good arm behind his head, pulling the thin piece of cotton off in one fluid motion. The speed at which the shirt had vanished from his body gave me zero time to mentally prepare. He was the same person I'd always known, but this was different. I looked straight ahead at the door.  
"It's not weird." I said, even though it sort of was. "I'm getting used to it." He chuckled again. Music.  
"Don't worry Ari, I'll keep my pants on, for your sake." He reached a delicate hand up to sweep unruly bangs out of my eyes. I hadn't realized the scene downstairs had left BOTH of us looking like goblins. "You don't look that great yourself, believe it or not," I was situating myself closer to him, licking my thumb and smoothing down one of his rogue eyebrows, "Despite having thrown your bloody shirt on my floor." I smirked, picking the shirt up and throwing it, this time right into the hamper. "Sorry."  
"Kidding, only kidding." I laughed, and grabbed his wrist again, this time much gentler, taking a black hair band from it.  
"I'll give it back, I swear." He looked amused. "Turn around." He said, and without hesitation, I did. He reached over my shoulder, fingers waggling. I dropped the hair band into his palm and began nervously fidgeting while he braided my hair. I hadn't always been this nervous around him. I kept trying to remind myself he was still the same person.  
"I really missed doing this, can you believe it? all those times as kids we sat in this window and i braided your hair- I never thought..." He trailed off, looking around the room for bobby pins. I didn't have any.  
"I'll make do." He took a piece of hair from behind my ear and I felt him weaving it between the braid to keep it put.  
"Yeah, all those years I could have sworn you were gay." I was holding the throw pillow tightly in my lap.  
"Very funny. All done." I turned back around and without warning, positioned myself against him. He didn't budge, other than moving his leg under mine to get a little more comfortable. The window bed wasn't as big as it was when we were 10.  
"I'm really glad you're home." It was then that my brain realized that he still had no shirt on, and my face was pressed to his warm neck. I could feel his collar bone under me- not as prominent as it used to be, back when all he would eat was corn and blue kool aid. My mom always complained about that. I began to panic a little bit. His skin smelled nice, different. This time he smelled like firewood and rain. Something unnatural, too, maybe shampoo or aftershave. I didn't smell blood, which was a relief.  
"I'm glad i'm home too, Ari." his hand did not move from my back. "This is home."  
I had no clue what he meant by "This." Was it Briarwood? Or my house? Or this window bed? Or me? Or were we just too buzzed to think straight but not drunk enough to start making out?  
I went with the last option. 

"Remember the time we dared Duncan to jump in the lake naked and we didn’t know that those kids were camping next door and totally saw his junk flopping around in the moonlight? We probably scarred those kids for life." With my head pressed against him, his voice sounded so much deeper.  
"Yes! I was so afraid the cops were going to find us. I didn’t even go to the store for a week because I was convinced they all knew!"  
He laughed, the sound shaking both of us.  
"You were always so good." He said nothing else after that. I didn’t know what to say either.  
Sometimes when conversations burn out, the silence that's left is a nice and relaxing one, not an awkward one. This silence was both. I became hyper-aware of his breathing and while the floor under us was consistently bouncing with the music downstairs, I could only hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. After what was probably only 10 minutes, but felt like 30, I knew he was asleep. I could have easily slid up from the seat without waking him, but I didn't.  
"Getting soft on me, huh?" I said, rising abruptly to meet his face with mine. He opened his eyes and grinned, "I was not asleep. Can't a dude just relax for a little while?"  
"Suuuure," I trailed, getting up and making my way to the closet.  
"I just remembered, I Have one of your old lacrosse hoodies. It might be a little small on you but it still fits me fine." I pretended to be searching diligently, but I knew exactly where to go. I pulled it out and threw it across the room to him. He made no effort to catch it, which was unusual.  
"Is me being shirtless really making you this uncomfortable?" He whined, standing to hold the hoodie up to himself, which was clearly too small by now.  
"No. But, you felt cold." I put one of my always-warm hands on the small of his back, an area I knew was sensitive to him. "See."  
He moved away from my hand.  
"just because you're always warm does not make me cold. It makes me average." He retorted, sliding into the tiny garment. I gave a half-smile.  
"Plus you were making me want to do unspeakable things, and that's not going to happen tonight. " I said quietly. He scoffed.  
"Well, fine then! I'm glad I had the honor of frustrating you." 

I didn't say anything for a while. I guess he was tired enough to not care, seeing as he had sat cross legged on the bed and was staring across the room out of the window. I heard Roxanne by the police come on downstairs. I guess I took this as a sign, or maybe an excuse, I don't know. Avan and I used to sing that song while driving to the mall when Avan first got his license. Back then, I never even thought about doing what I was about to do.  
I turned to face him. "Damn you." I laughed, crawling onto the bed beside him. He reclined back, giving me a victorious grin. "What ever did I do to deserve this?" He laughed, rolling up his sleeves. His forearms looked like they were getting no circulation. I shook my head no. He raised an eyebrow and I rose on my knees and reached behind him to pull the hoodie off, wrecking his ponytail. It now looked almost as bad as mine. He yanked the hair band out and let it all fall for the first time since I'd seen him again. Lush black waves, completely unmanageable. No wonder he kept it up. Jesus.  
"Better." he grinned, rolling closer to me on the bed. I guess leaving the window bed took the crippling innocence away from the room, or so I felt anyway, and now I was able to actually look at him. He was toned, sure, but nowhere near as built as I thought he'd be when he came back. I guess naturally thin people stay thin to some extent. I cringed silently at the sight of a scar, not a very big one, but noticeable, just below his collarbone. He had another, a larger, more circular one, on the underside of his arm, which was tucked behind his head. His arms. So gorgeous, his olive skin so ornately decorated with the tattoos I never thought he'd actually get. He also had one tattoo apart from the rest, trailing diagonally across his ribs. A fear and loathing quote that looked like he may have hand-painted it himself.  
"Buy the ticket, take the ride." I said the words out loud, and looked at him and smiled. I started kissing at his neck and several sharp gasps escaped his mouth. He put a strong but gentle hand on my hip and left the other one above his head on the pillow. I made my way down, biting at the skin by his collarbone. I purposely left no mark on his neck. By now most of my pillows had ended up in the floor, and I realized we were on top of the blankets, windows wide open, lights on, houseful of people downstairs wondering where we were.  
I was not ashamed. I pulled my mouth from his chest and laid a hand in its place. "Hang on." I got up, nearly tripping over some pillows, and locked the door. Then I yanked the light pull and jerked one half of the curtain shut, just, you know, to be safe.  
I picked up right where I'd left off. He didn't say much, neither of us did. He occasionally would let out a breathy and uneven "Oh my god..", which I knew I'd later use as ammunition in one of our mocking fights.  
"Lord have mercy Ari," He moaned, one hand gripping the bed beside him, the other with a firm grip on the back of my neck.  
I had hit every spot, ending with trailing back up his side to get the left half this time, again, careful to leave nothing visible. His long body writhed underneath me, hips arching as I laid the last few kisses along his waistband. I had never imagined Avan in a situation like this one, and I have to admit, it was far from what I imagined. He could go from angry grabbing, to soft whimpering in no time. I was having a lot of fun, but I felt strange having the upper hand. I truly thought of us as equals.  
what I did next, I took no responsibility for, but rather placed the blame on the long black hair and devastating bronze images draped haphazardly across my tequila-soaked brain.


	5. Chapter 5

My phone buzzed, making Avan jump. I tried not to giggle as I scrambled across the bedroom to grab it from the dresser. A text from Holland:  
“You better be up there doing what I think you’re doing.”  
I quickly replied,  
“Fuck the banner, he can have the cake tomorrow. ;)” I turned it to mute and slung it into the window bed as I flopped back down in front of Avan.  
“That was just Dylan telling me that he’s drunk.” We both laughed. Him at the thought of Dylan actually texting me that, and me at the clever believability of the lie I’d just told.  
I slithered up the length of his torso and wrapped my fingers around the side of his neck.  
"Your turn." I hissed, pulling the rest of my bunched top over my head. "Unless you're afraid you can't measure up." I let out a tiny chuckle, knowing what I'd just done.  
He immediately rose with such force that I nearly fell backward off of the bed, but he caught me by my wrists and pulled me into his lap.  
He quickly, but securely, took the back of my head in his hand and brought my face forward to meet him. I couldn't see his expression but I could feel his breath on my neck.  
"You-" He stopped, clicking his tongue a few times.  
"You're evil, little girl." He whispered, sending a chill through me, and he was immediately making his way up my throat. I kept a hand in his hair at all times for leverage, but the other wanted to explore. I could feel the muscles in his broad back and shoulders moving with us. I felt a textured patch- a scar, and placed my hand flat against his skin. I smiled into his neck, which I knew he felt, because I felt him smile too.  
He tasted like bourbon. (Who even brought bourbon? It certainly wasn’t in the bags full of cheap beer and frat-party reject liquors that Liz brought home.)

His hands became so tight on my hips that I felt I should switch something around, so I unwrapped my legs from his waist and rolled over, pulling him with me. I purposely left my arms open for him to do whatever, but he wouldn't take the bait. I jerked his shorts down, with my feet, grinning silently in the dark.  
"Ari," He started, panting in my ear.  
I reached a hand down to tease him, and he took the bait. He jerked my cotton underwear (how embarrassing) down to my ankles and pinned my hands down with his own. He left the bra on, for whatever reason, but trailed kisses up and down my chest and neck. He came back up to meet my face.  
"Is this okay?"  
I nodded, trying to ignore the total mood-killer, and he continued kissing down my side and stopped at my hip, just like I had with him. He reached back up, cupping my face in his hand again, and tucked his knee between my legs. I graciously accepted, thinking that this was it. He kept kissing me for a few more minutes, slowing down and focusing more on my face, then began kissing the palms of my hand, moving up my arm to my shoulder. He laid beside me, pulling me closer to him in the dark. My arm was hanging off of the edge of the bed, so I knew we were on the side closer to the door, which I hated. But right now, I didn't give a damn. He reached over and grabbed my hand, placing it on his heaving chest, holding it there.  
"I'm. I’m. Sorry." He breathed up at the dark ceiling. His heart was hammering against my hand, and I said nothing, feeling it gradually creep back to an almost normal pace.  
"Why in the world are you sorry?" I finally asked, appalled.  
"I- I don't know. For all of that. For not following through."  
"Are you kidding me?" I rose on my elbow, facing him, even though the room was pitch black.  
"You know as well as anyone I don't let just anyone fuck me." I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. He said nothing, so I moved my hand up to his face.  
"Avan, I'm kidding. There's nothing to be sorry about. That was fantastic." I kissed his mouth, sighing.  
"I promise. A+ romp in the sheets." And I meant it.  
"You're something else, let me tell you." He murmured, and I felt him finally relax underneath me.  
“Now, tell me about Amsterdam.” He patted my hand, still on his chest, and I took his hand in mine. I brought it up to my mouth, and bit it. Hard. He drew in a sharp breath.  
“Ari, what the fuck?”  
“No. I will not tell you about Amsterdam until you talk to me.” I kissed his hand apologetically.  
“What do you mean? I AM talking to you. Right now.” I could hear the irritation in his voice. He knew what I meant.  
“Fine, pretty boy, I’ll meet you halfway. A story for a story. Deal?”  
My fingers trailed along his ribs, up and down his stomach, drumming on his chest, waiting. He was quiet for a minute before he whispered up at the ceiling.  
“Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long. I've been both sick and swamped with schoolwork, but i'm back at it! And i'm about to be on spring break so i'll be able to write a lot more.

“You know, I don’t think you realize just what you’ve gotten yourself into, young lady.” Avan chuckled, letting himself fall into the recliner that sat diagonally from the bed.  
“Uhm, young lady? This army shit has really gone to your head. You’re _4 months_ older. Hush up!” I had turned a dim table lamp on so that we could actually see each other.  
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He grinned across the room at me.  
“Ari, would you like to make this game a little bit more interesting?”  
“Well obviously. We might as well live it up in here because there’s no way I’m going back downstairs tonight.” The party had died down a little but I could still hear Snoop Dogg, the clank of empty beer cans being kicked around the garage, which was directly underneath my room, and Dylan doing his Kevin Hart impression in the kitchen, which echoed up the stairs. He was so embarrassing. Had it not been his own birthday I would have begged him to stay sober.  
“A story for a story, but with shots. You give a story, I take a shot, and I give a story, you take a shot, yes?” He inquired, eyebrows raised hopefully. As if my answer would be anything but yes.  
I just grinned. It was a brilliant plan, honestly. It was a sad truth to admit, but It’d be easier to explain everything to him if I could use the excuse ‘oh, I was so drunk!’ the next day. I scrambled from the bed and grabbed a pair of antique chopsticks from the top of the dresser. I knelt down to the bottom of the dresser, which was ornately carved and used the chopsticks (which were not actually antique), to pry open my secret compartment. Only Holland and Liz knew about this compartment. Avan’s eyebrows dropped about an inch and his mouth hung wide open as I pulled from the compartment a bottle of Jim Beam and a bottle of Jack Daniels.  
“Take your pick.”  
“Do you even know me at all?” He grinned, his gaze drifting more towards my right hand.  
“Jim it is,” I concluded, shoving the losing whiskey back into the drawer and kicking it shut.

 

Avan was still in the chair, and I was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him.  
“So what I’m taking from this story is this. Amsterdam is land of the hottest women,”  
“AND men!” I interrupted.  
“..Land of the hottest people, legal weed, lower drinking age than the states, legal prostitution, and there’s basically waffles and cheese on every street corner.”  
“There’s so much more than that,” I laughed, feeding off of his smile.  
“WAFFLES and CHEESE, Ari.” He dictated, craning his neck over the side of the chair to stare at me.  
“I KNOW, I was there, remember?” I was tired of sitting and my back was kind of hurting so I laid down on the floor.  
“Okay, okay. But I know there were probably some cons as well?”  
“None. It was a flawless trip. Amsterdam is flawless.”  
“You’re flawless.” He whispered, but in a joking way.  
“Nuh uh, you know who’s really the most flawless?” I sat up to face him.  
“Holland.”  
“OH, RUDE!” He groaned, pushing my head back down.  
“But I’m gonna let it slide since we’re getting pretty silly in here.” He stood, and in seconds a tan hand was above my face, blocking most of the dim light. I grabbed it and was rushed upwards, my head already swimming.  
He pulled me onto the bed and we sat cross-legged facing each other, his back to the door.  
“It’s your turn Ari, but I’m gonna switch up the rules. I’m gonna prompt you and you have to give a story accordingly, okay?”  
“Uhm, alright.” I stretched one of my legs out beside him.  
“What is one of the saddest things you experienced while I was away?”  
Shit, way to kill the mood. I stared at him for a few minutes, wondering if he was trying to get me to admit to crying my eyes out for weeks after he left. But he just seemed genuinely curious so I came up with something to tide him over.

“There was this Alaskan boy in my drawing 1 class. About 6 months before this happened, his girlfriend was driving one night and came around a curve too quickly and crashed her car. She died. And months after, some girls had the nerve to tell the boy to move on to someone else because his girlfriend was dead. I thought that was so fucked up. When Christmas came, he posted a picture on facebook, with the caption "Just put the angel on my tree." It was a picture of his girlfriend taped to the top of the Christmas tree. I cried like a bitch.”  
The story I gave him was true, but he was staring at me in disbelief like I’d pulled it from a lifetime movie.  
“That story had nothing to do with you.” He stated calmly.  
“Give me something that you actually experienced.” He demanded, scooting closer to me on the bed. I rolled my eyes.  
“What are you getting at, Avan?”  
“If you forfeit, I win.” Was all the remark he gave.  
“Fine. Okay.” I had a feeling he already knew what I was about to tell him so there was no point in trying to sugar coat it. I caved. I reached over turned the lamp off because I didn’t want him to see me anymore. I took a deep breath.  
“Three months after you left,” I began, but stopped when I felt him move closer to me. He scooted up against me, his back to mine, and settled.  
“Three months.” Was all he said.  
“Three months after you left, I was driving home. It was a warm night but the roads were very dark.”  
“Much like this room. right. now.” He was doing the thing with the awkward tension and the joking. It helped, a little.  
“I wasn’t even speeding. It wasn’t even raining. I came around the really sharp curve on Windy Gap, almost at the top, and when I came up, right in the curve, a guy- a black guy, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, was walking right in the middle of the street. And I hit him.” By the end of the story, I was nearly whispering. Not because I was ashamed, but because I had never had to explain this out loud to anyone before. It felt so unnatural. When it happened, everyone just knew and found out through others. No one ever talked about it with me, except Holland, on occasion. Avan said nothing.

“And I killed him.” This time I spoke at full volume. He sighed against me.  
“When you hit him, what happened?” He pondered aloud, an arm reaching out behind him. He leaned his head back on my shoulder, so that his ear was almost next to my mouth.  
“I stopped the car, screamed, screamed for a few more minutes, got out, stood by him, and screamed until a cop showed.”  
“And what did the cop say?”  
“Avan, what the fuck?! What is this? What are you doing?”  
“I thought we were playing the story game.” He sounded hurt. He turned around, leaning against the headboard.  
“Do you want to stop playing?” He sounded genuine, and I wondered if alcohol just made him insensitive or intrusive or both.  
I decided that instead of arguing with him I was just going to forgive him, ignore how weird he was being, and finish the story. I burrowed into the blankets beside him, speaking to the ceiling.  
“The feeling of the car colliding with something that had life- and knowing that I'd instantly robbed it of that life- is a feeling i'll never forget. I know it's not the same as pulling the trigger on someone, but at least in the army, you see it coming. You have a choice. You know what to expect, to some extent. I wish so bad I'd stayed home that night.” I didn’t know what else to add. Before I could declare a proper end to my turn, he’d leaned over and kissed me on my forehead. I heard the bottle of whiskey slosh, followed by the tap of him sitting it down quietly on the night stand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO I AM SO, SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG. I got a new job making art for a gallery on top of my other job AND online summer classes, my first niece was born, and it's been a hectic few months.

“I want you to tell me another sad story. One you’d have told me if you were reserving the previous one.”  
“What are you talking about?” I was beginning to lighten up about the situation, suddenly coming to the realization that I was sure Avan was here to stay.   
“Sad story, GO!” he yanked his body into an upright position, again.  
“FINE! Okay!” I pretended I was thinking, but one memory aside from the Christmas tree story immediately came to mind.   
“The summer after you left, when we visited Amsterdam, It was the first time i'd flown. We were in the airport about to board the plane, and i saw a little girl i'd been seeing around our terminal all day. She couldn't have been older than 5 years old, and she had cancer. “  
He nodded along.  
“All day long i'd watched her, never letting go over her daddy one time. He was carting around her oxygen tank behind him and kissing her on the head and comforting her when loud alarms would sound. Everyone was staring at them all day. As we were about to board, the two of them were saying goodbye to what appeared to be her dad's brother. As we all got farther and farther from the gates, the little girl would cry "Marco!" and her uncle would reply "Polo!" "Marco!" "Polo!" "Marco!" until we were too far to see him anymore.”  
“That’s it?”  
“IT WAS SAD, OKAY!”  
He laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Yeah I probably would have had a moment in the airport bathroom after seeing that, honestly.” He chuckled as he slithered up from the bed and went into my bathroom. He turned the fan on while he peed, something I admired. He had taken the time to be considerate of my ears, even in his drunken, full-bladdered state. A simple gentleman.   
When he came back out of the bathroom, he plopped into my leather recliner. 

These two lesser stories he had pried out of me had happened within the same year. I thought I was lucky to not have such problems. And I am. But something happened to me that i will never forget, even with the help of Avan’s late night mind games.

I realized all three of these stories, even with varying levels of sadness, had one common element- death. Or, near death, at least. After explaining them, i felt like i wanted to die, because i knew what was about to happen. He was about to tell me 3 things so unsettling they'd grind my moments straight into the ground and i wouldn't be able to sleep tonight at the thought of what he'd been through as well as the crippling guilt i'd face, what with my being privileged and, for the most part, mentally stable.  
He did not look at me with judgment, but gave me more of a look of admiration. I never understood that look when he gave it-almost always at an inappropriate time. His face softened and he moved his knee further into the crease of the chair, making room for me in his lap.   
"Come here." He said quietly, waving me over with one hand.   
"Get over here." I slowly, unsurely made my way across the room, blanket trailing behind me. He held his arms out for me and i stiffly lowered myself into the space he'd made, one leg hanging over top of his knee. 

So we talked. And talked. And drank. And talked. And when I thought we’d finished talking, we talked some more. As the conversation drew on and on, the party dying down and the night growing colder by each passing hour, and we became drunker and drunker, we both became less cautious.   
“If you don’t tell me some army stories I am going to choke the shit out of you. And not in a fun and sexy way either.” We were both laughing, but I was so serious.  
“Please have mercy on me tonight, I just got back and I’m sad.” He pouted comically, breaking into a huge grin and laughing again. I think we’d passed the point of droopy sadness and were transitioning into stupid. Thank god.

 

After a while the leg i was sitting on began to go numb, so i awkwardly braced myself against him to switch legs. He didn't even seem bothered that i was jabbing my palm into the side of his stomach to maintain my balance, he just kept talking.  
"Oh, i'm sorry. I forgot this thing can recline.." He reached one arm completely around me to the other side of the chair and hit a button that sent us falling backwards a little bit as the footrest part of the chair came out underneath our feet.  
We arranged ourselves the only natural way two people can lay in a recliner together. He sat a little more upright than i did, arms completely enveloping me. He was holding the blanket around just me, so he wasn't touching me directly. At this point, I really didn’t give a damn, but i was held firm against his broad chest, so when he spoke it sounded deeper and somewhat distorted.  
"Better?" He asked once we re-settled. I relaxed into him quite a bit, assuming that was enough of an answer. He continued with the bullshit stories that weren’t satisfying what I wanted to know. I wanted to hear about some violence. The only mildly unsettling thing he told me, he told me when I was nearly asleep.  
“Ariana, do you know why there’s not a single balloon downstairs? At a birthday party?” He asked quietly, but not breaking the casual tone he’d remained in since we began getting sleepy.  
“Uhm, because Holland and liz suck at parties and forgot to buy any?” Every party I didn’t take control of was usually half-assed, and this one was no exception, what with me being so distracted over the return of war-boy.  
“No, there aren’t any balloons down there because I specifically asked them not to bring any into the house.”  
I was silent for a second, thinking he was kidding.   
“Wh-… Oh.”  
“I’m afraid of them popping.”  
“Yeah I got that.” I felt him tense up slightly underneath me, but I squeezed him a little bit and he relaxed.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”  
“NO! No, I’m glad you told me.” And then we were quiet for a little bit. Did we just have a moment? I think we had a moment.   
The last thing I actually remember him saying was something about how his father used to own a bar. He couldn't see, but my eyes were shut and i was paying absolutely no attention to what he was talking about. It had to have been at least 3 in the morning.   
The longer he talked, and the tireder i became, the more i started to tune out. The only thing keeping me awake was the weirdness of the situation. His voice became background noise and i could only hear his heartbeat, low and heavy, much like my eyelids. I was out within minutes after that.


	8. Chapter 8

One thing I’d really hated, ever since I was a little kid, was waking up not in my own bed and immediately thinking “Where the fuck am i? This isn’t right.”  
This was not one of those times, but for the first time, something twisted a little differently. I knew I was in my bed, yet when my eyes opened I was still surprised to find myself not in the chair. Also, it wasn’t daylight yet. I jerked up and examined the room. Avan was sitting in the armchair, looking concerned as I eyebrowed him inquisitively.   
“Bad dream?” He let out a light chuckle.  
“Why are you in the chair?!” I threw my arms up, appalled that he’d even attempted to sleep anywhere that wasn’t within an inch of me.  
“I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want my tossing to wake you.”  
I just stared at him.  
“Get. Your ass. In this bed.” I dramatically yanked the blankets down and rubbed the cotton sheet beside me. He laughed and climbed up beside me, reaching over to the bright blue alarm clock. It read 5:12 am and he turned it in the opposite direction so that the light wasn’t hitting his face.  
“You really want to hear those army stories?” He asked, with a very bubbly and chipper tone.  
“LET ME PEE FIRST.” I scampered into the bathroom and ran the faucet and the fan while I peed. When I came out he was laughing and I loosely swatted at him with a throw pillow as I made myself comfortable again. I had socks on so my feet and legs were fine but my upper body was freezing. I didn’t want to suffocate him so I reached onto the floor and found the lacrosse hoodie and slipped it on. He laughed and pulled me onto his chest.  
“Ya comfy?” he asked, his heavy head resting on mine. I nodded and he took a deep breath.  
“So my first week I made a really good friend. His name was Taran, but everyone called him jolly. They eventually grew to call us “Tavan” when we were together, because we were together a lot. But separately, we were just Jogia and Jolly.”  
“Okay. So I’m guessing Jolly was called jolly because he was…”  
“Jolly.” He answered matter-of-factly. I nodded.  
“So anyway, we were heading into town one day and our tank drove over a land mine. I was in the back, but jolly, he was driving. Most of the 10 or so men got out and were walking around so we didn’t think it was too bad until we saw Jolly. He was trapped under a considerable amount of..shit.” He paused, and I could hear his fingernail zipping back and forth against the sheet. I just laid there, waiting for the rest of the story.  
“I was a pussy in this moment, Ari. I should have helped him. I was standing back, throwing up and panicking while another good friend, Jeremy, pulled Jolly’s body out.”  
“You’re not a pussy,”  
“I am though. Thirteen seconds after he pulled Jolly out, Jeremy was shot 4 times. We dragged him offsite and he begged us to just kill him. He told us he wanted to die. I didn’t want to give up, having just lost Jolly, but he had 4 broken ribs and two punctured lungs. We were miles and miles from camp and he would have bled out before we could have even gotten him to a safe zone. So I did what you’re really not supposed to do.”  
“You killed him.” I said it like it was factual, but he didn’t respond.  
“Had I just stepped up and been the one helping with Jolly, it would have been me at the other end of that gun. I was a coward.”   
Silence. For what seemed like days. What could I have said? I had absolutely nothing. I laid for a while, hearing his heartbeat fall back to a normal pace.  
“Do you want to take a bath?” I asked, still not moving.   
“Sure.” I could feel him smile.


End file.
